


The Married Life

by paien



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Harry struggles with a pasta recipe, Idiots in marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-23 04:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30050136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paien/pseuds/paien
Summary: The Snapes are happily married - with a few minor bumps in between. Nothing a little loving bickering can't solve!(moving my old fics over from FFN finally)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	1. The Married Life

“Severus! Your Doxy egg order just came in,” Hermione called from the back room of their co-owned apothecary.

“I'll be there in a moment!” Her husband’s voice drifted up from the basement lab.

“I'll start dinner, shall I?” she yelled back down the stairs. They really ought to invest in a better form of communication. She’d remember to note it on the _Second Priority To-Do List,_ but had a feeling it would be forgotten; the _First Priority To-Do List_ was currently rather full.

For now, though, Harry and Ginny would be visiting soon for supper—she’d discovered a delicious pasta recipe that she’d wanted to share with them—but the crate of Doxy eggs that she’d left sitting on the floor kept invading her mind. What if Crookshanks ventured down from their second-floor house compartment? She’d better put them away first.

After 20 minutes of cursing and grumbling to herself while rearranging jars of ingredients, Hermione finally sorted enough space to shove the Doxy egg supply onto the shelf. She sighed. Half an hour before Harry and Ginny arrived. Thankfully, the Potters were notoriously late for everything.

“Severus!” she bellowed and waited a few seconds.

Silence. He must  _ still  _ be brewing. She  _ knew  _ she shouldn’t have let him start that batch of Draught of Peace—he always lost track of time. Well, she’d have to cook as much as she could without him and hope he'd finish early enough to help her prepare the meal in time.

But as Hermione climbed the stairs to their living area, she stopped dead at the threshold. Merlin, the house was a  _ mess. _

Severus’ potions notes littered the couch, the dining table—even the countertops! Hadn't she asked him to put those away yesterday? And she'd  _ told  _ him not to cook around his notes, but he was impossible when he was engrossed in his research. 

She shook her head fondly and flicked her wand to gather the papers together, sending them flying to Severus’s study. He'd be incredibly displeased if Harry spilled anything on them. 

Well, she might as well check on the laundry too—she'd been hoping to wear her pretty flowery dress for their supper, and Severus should have started the washing spells already.

However, as she examined the mountain of clothes in the hamper, Hermione was quite certain that the laundry pile was still untouched; the sleeve of the knitted sweater she’d worn to The Burrow a week ago dragged against the floor mockingly.

“There you are,” Severus said in exasperation as he strode to her side. “I thought you were going to start dinner?”

“I thought you were going to do the laundry,” she replied slightly accusingly.

“Hermione,” he said patiently, “I’ve been doing the laundry for the past month. I do believe it is your turn.”

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. He had, hadn't he? God, she hated when he was right. Still…

“You didn’t have to,” she muttered rather petulantly. 

He snorted. “As if you would have had the time between preparing for Potter  _ and  _ Longbottom’s weddings. I didn't mind. However, it would be appreciated if you contributed to the washing again.”

“Yes, alright, I get it,” she grumbled half-heartedly. “I'm on it. Would you mind cooking the pasta? Harry and Ginny will be here soon.”

Severus paused. “Pardon?”

“They're coming for supper,” she elaborated with exaggerated patience. “I told you this yesterday.”

“I'm quite certain you didn't.”

“Severus! I definitely did. During tea, remember?”

His only response was a bemused stare, and Hermione sighed loudly.

“You were reading that new medical journal? I  _ asked  _ if you were listening—multiple times—and you were quite adamant that I didn't need to repeat anything. ‘My hearing is perfectly acceptable.’” She imitated his scornful drawl quite accurately.

“ _ Ah _ .” Severus coughed. “Actually, I do seem to recall something along those lines…”

“Your hearing may be alright, but you've a terrible case of selective attention,” she said with a wry smile.

“Yes, well... it was a fascinating article about the proposed benefits of Doxy eggs on—” He cleared his throat at her scowl. “I'll get started on that dinner, then.”

She snorted and squeezed his arm. “Thank you. I'll be right out.”

* * *

“Merlin, I’m  _ exhausted _ ,” Hermione mumbled as she collapsed into bed next to Severus.

He grunted in weary solidarity.

“That new Hogwarts Potions Master is an utter toadstool,” she continued to gripe as she snuggled up to her husband.

Another grunt.

“Of course, I suppose you were just as bad.”

This time, a hum of agreement.

“Where does Minerva keep finding these people?” she wondered sleepily. “I don’t think grumpiness is a requirement for obtaining a Potions mastery.”

“Hermione.” Severus’s groan was muffled in her hair. “ _ Please _ go to sleep.”

“Oh, right,” she whispered, patting his hand apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Mmm.”

…

Faint meows floated from across the hall.

“Cripes!” she exclaimed, jolting upright and nearly knocking Severus off the bed.

“Merlin’s beard!” her husband groused, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. “What is it?”

“We didn’t feed Crookshanks yet! Oh, it’s been so busy,” Hermione fretted as she attempted to untangle herself from the sheets.

“ _ We _ ? I believe that beast is  _ your  _ responsibility.”

She paused her flailing to glare at his figure in the darkness. “You like him, too.”

“...The sausage is tolerable. He could do with a missed meal or two—his metabolism is not what it used to be.” With that, he rolled onto his side, leaving her scowling at his back.

“Definitely a requirement,” she muttered under her breath as she finally freed herself from the blankets.

* * *

“Hermione!”

She rushed to the dining room at the sound of her name. “What's wrong, Severus?”

“I can't find my notes on Doxy egg shell properties.” The scowl on his face was as menacing as she'd ever seen in the past few years. Except for that one time she'd accidentally shrunk all his clothes. How was she supposed to know that the fitting charm on her undergarments would react badly with the magic of her ironing charms? She'd never had much of a knack for household charms.

“What do you mean you can't find them?” she parroted dumbly. “Surely they must be somewhere in your stack of notes.”

“They should be, shouldn't they?” He eyed her critically. “And yet they’re nowhere to be found.”

She frowned at his expression, suddenly feeling like she was retaking her NEWTs. “What are you trying to say here, Severus?”

“They're hard to miss, you see—I charmed the paper to vibrate when touched.” His tone was overly casual.

Uh oh. She'd thought that she'd just imagined the trembling of the pasta recipe that she'd handed to Harry before he left. 

“You know,” she said suddenly, pretending to sound surprised, “I think I remember putting that away when I was cleaning the other day. I'll grab it for you after supper, okay?”

With a knowing, satisfied smirk, Severus nodded and returned to his lab.

* * *

“Harry!” she yelled as soon as she stepped through his Floo. “Do you remember that pasta recipe I told you to make for Ginny sometime?”

With his head pillowed in his arms on the kitchen table, Harry snapped upright at her abrupt entrance. Reminders of the Auror paperwork he’d been slaving over were imprinted into his forehead.

“Huh?” Harry mumbled, momentarily disoriented. “Oh, yeah. I haven’t gotten a chance to use it yet. Why do you ask?”

She cleared her throat sheepishly. “I think I gave you Severus’ notes by accident. Would you mind grabbing them for me?”

Now Harry seemed awake; his green eyes widened in alarm. “Hang on—you  _ what _ ?”

Hermione felt a matching panic rising in her core. “Please tell me you didn’t lose them.”

“Err, no—of course not. Just, ah, give me a day or two to find them, alright?” Harry was already out of his seat and rushing down the hall.

Great.

* * *

Severus’s tone was much less forgiving when she returned. 

“What do you mean you couldn’t get them back?” he asked flatly.

She tried valiantly to placate him. “Look, just give him some time—you  _ know _ Harry’s not the most organized person. I don't think he would've just thrown out my ‘recipe.’”

Severus sighed loudly and pulled out a chair, collapsing onto the dining table in much the same manner that Harry had been earlier. She made quite certain not to mention that to him now, though.

“I'm sorry, Severus. I'll help you recompile the notes,” she offered, placing her hands on his shoulders comfortingly.

“No, there's no point now—the Doxy eggs will spoil,” he lamented, leaning into her.

“Perhaps you should have your important notes turn blue next time instead,” she joked lightly, only to immediately regret it. In hindsight, she could have waited for a better time to mention their miscommunication.

“Oh, shall I have them fold into origami as well?” he retorted snidely and twisted to scowl at her. “And I’d thought vibrating paper would be obvious enough. How silly of me.”

“Don't be an arse, Severus.” Hermione returned his scowl just as fiercely. “It might help, though, if you didn't leave your notes in every  _ crevice  _ of the house. You have a study room for a reason.”

“It’s never been an issue before—and it still wouldn’t have been one if you would  _ look _ at what you’re handing over to Potter.”

She let her hands drop from his shoulders and crossed her arms. “It’s never been an issue because  _ I _ always clean up after you!”

“If I’d wanted you to then I would have asked!” he growled, gripping tightly on the back of the chair. “I think I’d rather if you didn’t touch my notes, actually.”

“Severus Snape!” Her voice was dangerously close to a shriek. “What could  _ possibly _ be so important in those notes that you can’t rewrite them in a few days?”

The angry scowl eased into a petulant pout. “Not enough time,” he muttered, sitting properly in his chair once more.

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation as she stomped to the bathroom to prepare for bed. She’d let him stew alone.

* * *

An hour later, Severus crawled into bed next to Hermione. She automatically shuffled over to create space for his long frame.

“Did you know,” he began quietly, curling an arm around her, “that even when you absolutely infuriate me, you’re still incredibly lovely?”

She snorted but couldn’t help a soft smile from creeping onto her face. “Pretty words. Did they teach that in Potions school as well?”

She didn’t have to be facing him to know that he was rolling his eyes. “I apologize,” he murmured lowly into the darkness. “The research was meant to be a surprise for our upcoming anniversary…”

“ _ Oh _ ,” she gasped in realization and turned over to grip him closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

He shrugged. “It can’t be helped now—let’s put that behind us. Would you like to work with me this time?”

“Of course! What were you researching?”

He cleared his throat, and he seemed almost—nervous? “It’s a memory restoration potion.”

She blinked rapidly, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Severus,” she breathed, unable to voice her swirling emotions. It had been  _ years _ since they’d traveled to Australia and failed to reverse her memory charm. They hadn’t spoken much of it since then. Could this potion cure her parents? How long had he been planning this?

“I hadn’t wanted to mention it to you before, but I’ve progressed far enough that I’m fairly confident it should work,” he continued soothingly. “It’s the least I could do for you putting up with me all this time.”

She sniffled between giggles. “You’re a grumpy sod, but you’re also quite lovely, did you know?”

“Don't call me that—I'm not lovely. Why don't we take a visit to the Hogwarts library first thing tomorrow? I'm sure Minerva would love to see you as well.”

* * *

The next morning, a black-haired, bespectacled man tumbled gracelessly out of the Snapes’ Floo. 

“Hermione! I just need a few more days, alright? Ginny gave the recipe—well, Snape’s notes—to her Mum to try and you know she's already tucked it away in her cookbook,” Harry rambled as he straightened his glasses. “But at least you know they're safe for sure there. Hermione?” he queried when he realized his best friend had yet to respond.

“Mreeoow.”

“Oh, hullo, Crooks. Is Hermione here?”

The great ginger cat licked disinterestedly at his paw.

“I'll take that as a ‘no’. Er, is Snape in?”

Baleful yellow eyes stared unblinkingly at him.

Harry grimaced. “Right, well, I'll let myself out. You, ah—you won't mention I was here, will you, Crooks? I'll have the notes back by tomorrow, promise. Snape’s not too mad, is he?”

The half-Kneazle let out a series of loud yowls.

Harry paled and backed away slowly to the Floo, glancing around suspiciously for signs of Snape's. “That mad, huh? Well, you let Hermione know I'll have the notes in a jiffy.” He turned and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

An image of Snape’s disdainful sneer entered his mind and he shuddered.

“Might send them by owl instead though,” he muttered to himself, stepping into the fireplace.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter was a oneshot that I wrote for something on Fanfiction - this was just a short little continuation I added after. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy! :)

Feeling utterly content, Severus leaned back in his seat at the kitchen table and sipped at his morning coffee. It was nearly Christmas, and he only had one more order of Pepper Up to send to Hogwarts. Then he could enjoy some quiet reading by the fire…

Hermione was humming cheerily to herself as she prepared breakfast, and even Crookshanks was behaving himself, curled up by the windowsill. Yes, this would be a good day.

“So, you owled the presents last night, right?” Hermione asked, setting her cup of tea on the table.

Severus stared at her blankly.

“You know, for Luna and Ginny and everyone?” She skipped over to the sizzling pan of sausages. “Did you want your eggs scrambled?”

Uh oh. “Scrambled, please.” He took a large gulp of coffee. “And I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

She paused at his admission. “What?”

He knew that look in her eye. Steeling himself with another mouthful of coffee, Severus attempted to feign nonchalance. “I was rather busy last night, you see,” he stalled as he wracked his brain. What  _ had _ he been doing last night? He’d fed the blasted cat, decanted his potions, then…

“Yes,” said Hermione dispassionately, “I’m sure you were quite busy when you were listing all the reasons we shouldn’t bother getting a Christmas tree. For three hours, if I remember correctly.”

“...To be fair, one of those hours was spent sorting the pantry as well—”

“—while still complaining about a tree. The pantry does look rather nice, though.”

He allowed himself a moment to preen. “Thank you. I even color-coded the spices the way you like.”

Hermione smacked him with a dishcloth but was unable to hide her smile. “I saw that. Now stop smirking like that—you look like Lucius Malfoy. And stop trying to distract me.”

Severus sighed. “Very well. I’ll send those gifts off now then, shall I?”

“Erm, well, we don’t have the owl now, you see.”

“What on earth happened to the owl?” he asked in disbelief. “If your ruddy cat—”

“No! Crooks would never do that.” She glared at him. “I let Harry and Ginny borrow it. You know how many presents James Sirius—”

Severus grimaced, earning himself another smack with the dish towel.

“—bought for all his friends. It would take ages for one owl to deliver them all! So I let them borrow ours.”

Her beseeching smile was entirely too pretty for him to ignore. Or perhaps the warm feeling in his chest was because of the coffee he’d ingested.

“A commendable reason, I suppose,” he acquiesced. “Although I suppose those presents will have to wait,” he realized out loud gleefully. And he’d still have time to start his new book…

“Don’t be silly!” Hermione bestowed him with another beaming smile. “Now we have an excuse to visit everyone in person!”

Merlin preserve him.

* * *

Well, now that he’d somehow survived five rounds of tea after visiting each of Hermione’s friends, Severus could finally start on the Hogwarts order of Pepper Up potion.

“Severus!  _ Severuuus _ ! SEVERUS!”

Severus glanced up in alarm from his position at his potions workbench. “Hermione?” he questioned, hurriedly casting a  _ Stasis _ charm on his brewing and rushing up the stairs to deal with the source of his wife’s distress.

“Ow! Bugger, where are you, Severus?” she yelled from the living room.

Severus skidded to a halt into the living room. Wand drawn and eyes wide, he stared in disbelief at the scene before him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, not sounding particularly impressed as he surveyed the evidence of her endeavors.

Hermione beamed down at him from her precariously perched position on a step ladder. She gestured proudly towards the large Christmas tree that invaded the centre of the cozy living room.

“Setting up the tree!” she said happily. “Now—hold the end of the lights, will you? I keep pricking myself on the blasted needles trying to wrap the lights around.”

He scowled. “I thought you needed help.”

“Does this not constitute help?”

“I thought you were in trouble,” he clarified, still scowling up at her with his arms crossed. “I put my batch of Pepper Up on stasis and you  _ know _ that that batch will be less potent now—I’ll have to brew a new one for Poppy. I suppose we’ll keep the ruined potions for ourselves.” A sly smirk spread over his face. “Or I could give them to Potter…”

Hermione cleared her throat loudly and glared pointedly at her husband.

“I’ll let you give those to Harry if you help me set up the tree,” she bargained, although Severus knew her well enough to recognize that tone; there would be no refusing her.

He cleared his throat in return, nodding imperiously as if that were his idea all along. “Fine. What did you need me to do?”

Hermione huffed exaggeratedly in exasperation and hopped down the step ladder. She pointed to where she’d been standing. “Hold the end of the lights up there so I can wrap them around the tree.”

Severus blinked. “Shouldn’t  _ you _ be up there instead? I’ll hit my head off the ceiling.”

“I don’t like heights.” She waved off his confusion, then smiled brightly at him. “So go on—up you get.”

Severus frowned. She had clearly been fine earlier, but he didn’t argue as he stepped gingerly onto the ladder. He didn’t want to ruin her mood, particularly as he’d already buggered up earlier when he’d forgotten to send off their gifts. Well,  _ her _ gifts, really, but she’d insisted on signing his name as well. As if he had any idea what they were giving Ginny Potter for Christmas.

“I’ll just stand here then, shall I?” he asked in a bored tone. What was the point of this again? He could be finishing the Pepper Up, or catching up on his journal articles… The newest advances in improving the Skele-Gro formula were particularly fascinating…

“What? No, you need to make sure the lights don’t come off the top!”

“...Right. So I’ll just stand here. You know, dear, as I was saying last night, trees are rather overrate—watch it!” he growled when she slapped his arse in admonishment, the step ladder wobbling ominously. “Where did you find this ruddy ladder? It’s as stable as Trelawney!”

She snorted and continued to wrap the lights around the tree. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It was on sale!”

“From Minerva’s attic, most likely,” he muttered under his breath, earning himself another slap—on the thigh this time as Hermione bent to decorate the lower portions of the tree. “Can you hurry this up? I’ve got a crick in my neck and my arm is falling asleep.”

“Oh, stop whining,” she laughed.

Apparently nothing would dampen her Christmas cheer. He sighed and cracked his neck.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” she promised.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Shall I earn bonus points if I place the angel on the top? Seeing as you don’t like 6 foot heights,” he added snidely.

Hermione glanced up at him and winked. “Oh, I can definitely make it worth your while, love.”

Well, when she put it that way… He smirked. “ _ Accio _ star.”

* * *

“Mm, that was nice,” Hermione hummed appreciatively as Severus wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She pulled the bedsheets up over her shoulders. “Stop hogging all the blankets.”

“Hermione…  _ you _ have all the blankets,” Severus pointed out dryly.

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose I do.”

“I think the fire in the fireplace went out,” he groused. “My feet are freezing.”

“Just your feet?”

“Move over,” he growled, and she giggled as he wormed his way under the covers.

“You know, I could’ve just used a Sticking Charm,” she said after a few minutes of contented snuggling.

“What?”

“For the tree. I didn’t actually need your help.”

He sat up abruptly, pulling the blankets up with him.

“Hey! I need those!” she protested, tugging him back down.

“You had me ruin a perfectly good batch of Pepper Up for no reason?” he asked. At least the ingredients were rather cheap.

“Oh, don’t sulk. Harry could use the less potent batch—the adult dose would be too strong for little Albus.”

How disappointing. He’d been looking forward to seeing Potter with a perpetual cold.

“Besides, it’s no fun decorating alone, and I wanted an excuse to have a good view of your arse.”


End file.
